5. Sam
5
Sam
W aking up with a brain full of negative thoughts was standard for me.
The difference today was that they weren’t based on something that might happen, but on something I’d definitely done.
Namely, hitting on Zeke.
Telling him about my fantasy in the first place had been inappropriate.
But asking him if he was picturing me with him in the fantasy?
It was so far beyond inappropriate that it made my earlier blunder look tame in comparison. For fuck’s sake, I may as well have sent him a dick pic and called it a day.
What had I been thinking? We were friends. We’d never seen each other’s faces or heard one another’s voices. There was no way that was going to be changing either.
So why the fuck had I said it? I groaned, pushing the heels of my hands into my eyes. It didn’t help silence the thoughts. It wasn’t even my OCD at this point, just the usual morning-after regret, only without any of the fun of having got off.
I turned my head to glare at my laptop on the desk. The lid was closed, slammed shut after my brain had caught up with my fingers and realised what I’d just typed.
How was I supposed to chat with Zeke now? I’d made a complete and utter tit of myself.
Zeke said it was hot , the rational part of my mind whispered. He was into it.
Now my OCD piped up. ‘ He was just trying to make the situation less awkward. He’ll never talk to you again. ’
My stomach twisted at the thought. I was mortified, but I hadn’t meant for this to happen. I didn’t want to push him away like I had everyone else in my life.
We’d had a nice thing going. Something happy. Simple.
Now I’d fucked it up, just as I always did.
I bit my lip. What if Zeke had messaged again after I’d gone offline? Or worse, what if he’d left the chat completely?
I sighed, trying to figure out why this was bothering me so much. Upsetting and inadvertently offending others was par for the course with me. I’d been in similar situations a thousand times before. Losing a friend always hurt, but I got over it. I moved on.
Why did I feel like it wouldn’t be that simple with Zeke?
Maybe if I didn’t check, it wouldn’t happen. That was how I decided to approach it—by living in denial. All through my shower, breakfast, and getting dressed, I pointedly didn’t look at the laptop. It didn’t exist. I had no laptop. It was invisible.
I found jobs to do. I cleaned the kitchen, dragged out my sofas and hoovered behind and underneath them, scrubbed the inside of the windows.
I had to keep busy. I had to. If I stopped, I wouldn’t be able to resist checking the conversation. If I didn’t check it, then Zeke wouldn’t have quit the game.
It was only as I was wiping down the skirting boards that I realised what I was actually doing. Dropping the cloth in the bucket, I closed my eyes in frustration. Most of the time, I knew my OCD was creeping up on me. Sometimes though, it caught me off guard.
Today was one of those days.
It took me a few minutes to centre my breathing. I had a choice. I could let my compulsions continue to dictate my day.
Or I could confront my fear and open the laptop.
Getting to my feet was harder than it should’ve been. With every step I took to my bedroom, I spoke facts into the silent air around me.
“Staying busy isn’t going to affect the outcome of my friendship with Zeke.”
I climbed the stairs.
“Not checking the chat isn’t going to change what will happen.”
I crossed the landing.
“I can’t control Zeke’s reactions. I can only control my own.”
My hand was on the door now.
“If this is the end of our friendship, everything will be okay.”
That wasn’t a fact, but I wished it was. Maybe then I’d be able to believe it.
Inhaling deeply, I shoved the door open and strode over to my desk. I didn’t allow myself to pause or overthink, opening my laptop briskly.
The screen came to life, our chat appearing immediately. My heart leapt into my throat as I saw not one, but many messages from Zeke. All sent at about five this morning.
Zeke
I’m not sorry you said it
like I said, it’s hot
I’m not picturing you though
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to skip over the disappointment and move on to the next message.
Zeke
but that’s because I don’t know what you look like
and I have a fucking terrible imagination
I could picture someone wearing a grey mailing bag on their head? That could work.
I didn’t realise I was laughing until the sound hit my ears. It was like all my thoughts and anxieties were inside a balloon, and instead of letting it float free and hoping it wouldn’t make its way back to me, Zeke had taken out a needle and popped it. The fears evaporated like they’d never existed in the first place.
See? All that worry for nothing. If you’d checked your laptop this morning, you wouldn’t have wasted your day cleaning.
I ignored how true that was and focused on replying to Zeke.
Sam
I do have a lot of mailing bags here, so I can make that happen
The instant I hit send, Zeke appeared online. Did he have notifications set up to let him know? Or did he just have some uncanny sixth sense?
Zeke
he lives!
I mean, hi
I was starting to worry you wouldn’t come back
Tapping my fingers on my legs, I tried to decide how to respond.
Sam
I’ll admit, it was hard
I made such a tit of myself
I’m sorry
Zeke
I fail to see how you made a tit of yourself. I’m the one who said you having that fantasy was hot.
but I made it weird by asking if you were picturing me
it’s only weird because I don’t know what you look like
if I did, my answer would’ve been faster
My mouth was suddenly dry. Did he mean…
Zeke
I think we need to buy more rice
The change in topic was so sudden that it took me a second to realise what he was talking about. The game.
Sam
oh shit, yeah. We should probably open up another trading post.
Our conversation died down as we focused on our civilisation. Part of me was grateful that Zeke had changed the subject. That we could bring our friendship back to how it had started, and maybe find the comfortable ease we’d shared. One where neither of us hinted at things we shouldn’t be discussing.
But another part of me was disappointed.
We wrapped up everything that needed doing with startling efficiency considering how often we lost this game. As I placed the final storage post, I realised there was nothing else to do to delay logging off.
Zeke
there, that’s all sorted now. Hopefully the notifications will stop popping up every thirty seconds
so, what have you been up to today?
I was glad there was a screen between us, so Zeke couldn’t see the dopey grin that was lighting up my face.
Sam
Very exciting—I cleaned my house
Zeke
sounds thrilling
well, now I have squeaky clean skirting boards
…
wait, are you supposed to clean skirting boards?
Oh my god, I just checked one of mine and the DUST
I’m horrified
can you come and clean mine?
I was laughing again, swiping at my eyes as I imagined Zeke staring at his dust-caked finger in horror. Well, what I imagined him to look like, anyway. Seeing as I had nothing to base it on, I’d used my own dream man. Sam Heughan, specifically playing Jamie Fraser in Outlander .
I was a sucker for burly men who were gruff and rough around the edges. Throw in some red hair and I’d be on bended knee within minutes.
Maybe that was taking it too far. Let’s be honest, if I was dropping to my knees before a man like that, it wouldn’t be to propose. And if I was bending anything, it’d be over so he could fuck me until I was nothing more than a weeping, boneless mess.
Anyway, I digress.
Sam
Believe it or not, my skirting boards are usually as disgusting as everyone else’s
Zeke
is that why you cleaned them today? Or was it your OCD?
I winced. Yeah, it was because of that, but I didn’t like admitting to it. Cleaning and OCD were so tightly interlinked that it was all anyone thought about when the condition was mentioned.
Zeke
shit, you don’t mind me asking, do you?
Sam
no, not at all
it was because of my OCD, but because I was avoiding something. It’s like procrastination on steroids. Today it was cleaning, but it could just as easily have been organising my filing, rearranging my furniture, or sorting out my wardrobe. Anything to prevent me doing the thing I was stressing about.
From how the dots danced, Zeke typed and deleted his response several times before finally pushing send.
Zeke
the thing you were avoiding, was it logging back on here?
I blew out a breath. How did Zeke see through me so easily?
Sam
yeah. I’d fucked up, and I thought maybe if I didn’t check the chat, nothing bad would happen
Zeke
nothing bad will ever happen involving me. I promise.
do you still want to keep talking? I don’t want to be something that adds stress to your day.
I typed back so fast.
Sam
chatting with you does the opposite
on here, with you, I feel calmer
the best part of my day is when I come online
I smacked a hand over my face. That made me sound like such a loser, and once again, I’d revealed more than I’d intended. I couldn’t seem to help it. Something about Zeke had all my defences lowering, making me more open with him than I’d ever been with anyone else.
Zeke
mine too
I’m glad you don’t want to stop talking to me
I’d say I’d be fine, but like I said, I’m needy
My smile was shaky as it bloomed.
Sam
so I haven’t scared you off or offended you?
Zeke
fuck no
I’m literally impossible to offend.
unless you’re one of my housemates
in which case, you can probably offend me just by breathing
housemates? how many people do you live with?
well, there were nine of us, but due to recent events, it’s gone up to ten
TEN?!
do you live in a mansion or something? Or do you all sleep back to back like sardines?
hahahaha
sorry, I was just picturing it
I don’t think we’d survive the night if we all had to sleep in one space
we each have our own rooms and living areas
so a mansion then
I guess. It’s more like a compound. Perks of the job.
My nose wrinkled. I didn’t think professors had living quarters. To be fair though, it wasn’t like I’d been to uni or anything. My knowledge was based on what I’d seen in the media.
I should know not to trust that representation.
Sam
like university accommodation?
Zeke
yeah
so you’re all professors?
yep
I frowned at his short responses. Was I asking questions I shouldn’t? They didn’t seem inappropriate, but that didn’t always mean anything.
Sam
do you want to talk about something else?
Zeke
no, it’s fine
sorry, was distracted by one of said housemates
thought he needed something, but he was just being a dick as usual
are they often dicks?
only when they’re awake
could you not live somewhere else?
nah. They drive me up the fucking wall, but they’re like family to me
Family. I mouthed the word. I had family, of course, but I’d never felt that bond to them that others spoke of.
Imagining someone not related to me by blood as my family was too foreign a concept for me to wrap my head around.
Zeke
do you have any housemates?
Sam
no. I’ve tried it a few times, but it never ends well
why’s that?
I fidgeted, trying to decide how honest to be. Fuck it, it wasn’t like we’d ever meet in real life. I was going to be myself. Exactly myself, and no one else.
Sam
I’m difficult to live with
Zeke
I find that hard to believe
My smile was grim.
Sam
that’s because you only know me through the filter of the screen
some days, I’m fine as a housemate. I’ll cook dinner. Clean up after myself. Be considerate of everyone else’s space. Have a laugh and generally be a fun person to be around.
Zeke
and on other days?
on those days, I’m irrational. There’s no predicting how it’ll affect me. I’ll check every lock in the house at least three times. Take twenty minutes putting my shoes on over and over again. Hide all the knives and power tools. Wash my clothes three times instead of once. Scrub my hands until my knuckles are red raw. Stack the rubbish on the side because I can’t bear to touch the bin.
I thought about not continuing before figuring, fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Sam
I don’t just have OCD. I also have generalised anxiety disorder, panic disorder and sensory processing disorder.
basically, I’m a bundle of fun
Zeke
I can imagine. at least you’re doing it properly. Why have just one illness when you can have them all?
His reaction caught me off guard. It was so similar to what I’d usually say that I couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped me.
Zeke
fuck, was that inappropriate? Sorry, my humour is dark at the best of times.
Sam
no, it’s fine. it made me laugh. We have the same sense of humour.
in that case, can you lend it to me more often? Apparently I’m too grumpy to be around.
well, I could, but then I’d be grumpy
true.
in all seriousness though, I can see why those things bother you, but not how it’d bother others
surely you could find housemates who were understanding and supportive of your mental health needs?
if they exist, I certainly haven’t found them
but it’s fine. It means I can’t afford to live in a nice place or a nice area, but I make do
you live in a safe area though, right?
My mind drifted back to the stranger in my bed, and the recent reports of break-ins on the news.
Sam
it’s safe enough
I have deadbolts on all the doors
Zeke
okay that’s not helping
not helping what?
that I’m now worrying about you
I touched my bottom lip, staring at the screen. When was the last time anyone had worried about me?
Sam
nah, it’s fine
Zeke
is there a call option on here?
what…you want to talk to me? Like, over the phone?
if that’s okay.
My hands were trembling. Was it okay? Removing another block between us would only result in my heart and brain getting more…involved with Zeke.
Oh, who the fuck was I kidding? If I didn’t do this, I’d end up awake all night overthinking it.
Without giving myself time to spiral I put on the headset I used for work and hit the call button. I didn’t turn the camera on though. If this thing between us ever did move into the real world, I wanted to look better the first time Zeke saw me.
Not the sweat and dust covered mess I currently was.
The line rang once before it was answered. A black box appeared on my screen, but like me, Zeke had his camera off.
“Sam?”
Fuck , I mouthed, extremely glad he couldn’t see my reaction to his voice. It was even better than I’d imagined—rich and gravelly, like the honey and whiskey drink my gran used to make me sip when I was poorly.
“Yup.” My voice, however, came out as a squeak. I inhaled deeply and tried again. “I mean, yes. It’s me. Hi.”
“Hi,” Zeke said. “This okay? It’s not making you anxious?”
Strangely, it wasn’t. I usually despised having to make calls. Even with my clients it was something I struggled with. But with Zeke that anxiety was just…missing.
“No, I’m fine.” That he’d even thought to ask was astounding. “Thank you though. It’s nice to hear your voice.”
Zeke’s laugh washed over me across the miles. Fuck, if I’d thought his voice was sexy, it had nothing on his laugh.
“I’m not sure any of my un—I mean, housemates, would agree with you. Most of them hate the sound of my voice.”
“Is that because you’re grumpy with them?”
“Probably.” Zeke sighed. “Can’t help it though; grumpy is my default setting. It’s just getting worse as I age too.”
“Ah yes.” My cheeks were aching from how widely I was smiling. “I forgot you’re ancient. Are the nursing staff okay with you making this call? Did you have to get permission first?”
“It’s okay, I’ve got a deal worked out with one of the caretakers. He lets me use his laptop and phone in exchange for blow jobs.”
I leaned back in my chair, both relieved and amazed at how easy this was. “Out of curiosity, do you leave the false teeth in or remove them?”
“Oh always remove them,” Zeke said. “You can get far more suction without them in the way. Plus, there’s no chance of them accidentally snapping shut and causing an injury. Can’t have Bernard getting hurt and not letting me use his tech anymore. What would we do then?”
My shoulders were shaking with laughter. “Cheers for that, Zeke. No doubt that disgusting imagery will pop back up when I jerk off later.”
There was a pause. When Zeke spoke again, his voice had dropped an octave. “I’m only joking. I’ve been told that me on my knees is a pleasing sight.”
I groaned silently, parting my knees wider to accommodate my stiffening cock. “If you’re half as sexy as you sound, I bet it is.”
“My voice has nothing on yours, Sam. I’ve imagined it a thousand times, but my imagination doesn’t measure up to the reality. It’s fucking perfect.”
I bit my lip. “You’ve thought about me? When we haven’t been chatting, I mean?”
“More than I should probably admit.”
Sinking lower in my seat, I looked up at my ceiling like it might have the answers written up there for me. “What are we doing, Zeke?”
“Fuck if I know.” To his credit, he sounded as confused and frustrated as I was feeling. “I’m trying to keep this to an online-only thing, but I don’t know what it is about you. Thirty seconds of speaking to you has my guard slipping. I can’t help it, and what’s more, I don’t want to stop it.”
“Me neither,” I whispered.